Fake Stale Nike: The Nth Holy Grail War
by DJ Madcat
Summary: The most retarded Holy Grail War in history. And nobody even bothered to count which one it is! No Masters or Servants were hurt in the writing of this fic... at least, not TOO badly. Please review.
1. Yo Ho Ho And a Bottle of Mana

Author's Notes: Out of a years-long hibernation, I finally return to the land of the living! This time around, I'm going for a different approach, and am lampooning Fate/Stay Night. The new servant classes and identities here may or may not be obvious, depending on which one we're talking about here. I haven't finished it yet, jusso you know, and I haven't played the game because I'm purportedly too young, so there can, and most likely will, be mistakes… Well then, here goes nothing!

Disclaimer: Fate/Stay Night belongs to TYPE-MOON.

**Fake/Stale Nike: The Nth Holy Grail War**

**By DJ ****Madcat**

Chapter 1: Yo-Ho-Ho and a Bottle of Mana

The year? Nobody really cares about that. The place? Probably Fuyuki City, since nobody really cares about that either. It is the eve of the beginning of the Nth Holy Grail War. And yes, nobody really cares about the cardinality of the damn thing anymore. There have been so many that the Mage Guild had not only lost count, they didn't bother to try counting again. If that's the case, then why doesn't the city appear to be some kind of futuristic dystopian setting? Because the year doesn't really matter! It could be the 1980's for all we care!

Edison Pride dropped the catalyst, a heart-shaped locket, into the toilet and chanted his summons, driving all of his effort into the casting. He had prepared a really long time for this day, and he wasn't going to mess up. No Siree Bob, he was going to win this war, and to do that, he was going to get himself the greatest of the Servants for sure!

_"Smite my foes__ beneath your feet__Let my blood be your blood__And__ your sword be mine__I call upon __thee to serve__O great warrior!"_

The grey circuit, which had been carved into the inside of the toilet, exploded into a blast of blinding glare and urine-polluted water, engulfing his small rented apartment. Edison didn't stay at an estate like most other magicians in the city. No, he was merely renting a tiny 5x5 on the third floor of a building that looked like it had seen better days. Despite the fact that the Pride family was notorious for being one of the most extravagant of the many mage families in the world, he wasn't one to spend on such unnecessary things as purchasing an estate from somebody. After all, he was only staying in this blasted place for the duration of the war. No need to make it look like he was taking permanent residence.

And if he drew his card right, then there wouldn't be a real problem. He stepped out of the cramped bathroom to see just what he now had. Odd… no servant. No, the small living space, from the makeshift living room to the already-decrepit kitchen, was completely trashed, as though it had been struck by a three megaton bomb. He felt a presence, though… there was definitely a servant hiding somewhere around here.

He stepped outside and leaned on the railings of the walkway, scouring the cityscape for any sign of his partner. Nope, still no servant. An odd point of interest, though, was the fact that just awhile ago, it was bright and sunny. Now, it seemed, that his apartment was directly under one particularly dark and low-floating cloud. Was his luck so bad that it was now going to _rain_ on his place, and only his place? A moment of realization hit the magician. "Bloody hell, I can feel it… the servant is up… _there_!" he pointed his finger to emphasize his point.

No sooner than when he said this, a rope ladder rolled out from within the cloud, extending just in front of the rails where he was standing. Smirking to himself, the badly dressed young man tipped his bowler hat to the side as he ascended the elastic ladder, and up into the condensation. Upon closer inspection, it was more of a fog than a cloud, and what's more, the ladder itself hung from what appeared to be an old sailing ship that looked like it had been raised from the very depths of the ocean.

"A ghost ship, eh?" A very interesting premise indeed. Edison continued his climb until he reached the railings, where he was greeted by, for all references, what one expected to find on a ghost ship: a ghost pirate captain.

This particular captain, however, looked more fish than man. His head looked like an octopus wearing a barnacle-encrusted hat sitting on his shoulders, albeit he had a mouth and eyes, and a 'beard' that consisted of a lot of tentacles. His left arm was more of a crab's claw, while his right was something that had rather not be discussed. In general, he wore what could be accounted for the standard pirate captain regalia. Taking a gentlemanly bow, the old seadog announced himself with a heavy Scottish accent. "Servant Buccaneer has arrived. Welcome aboard, Master."

Edison blinked. Buccaneer? He didn't remember there being such a class. And yet here he was, the man… or fish-thing… whatever… introducing himself as such. "Much obliged." The badly dressed magician looked around the deck, finding it disturbingly empty. "So, old chap… you mind telling me where your crew is?"

"Aye, about that…" Buccaneer scratched his head, or rather, rubbed his claw against it in the equivalent. "Y'see, Master, the Throne of Heroes has dictated that Ah start without one, for one crewman counts as one soul… and ye know what that means."

"No, not really…"

"Ah'm in a great shortage of mana right now."

"Really?"

"Ye know, for a master, ye don't seem t' sound like one. How long have ye been preparin' for this war anyway?" Buccaneer drew a bottle of rum from somewhere, de-corked it, and took a swig.

Edison hung his head in at what revelation he was about to make. "Two days."

Buccaneer immediately spat out the rum, spraying it all over his master. Edison merely shut his eyes as his already badly dressed self was worsened. His dirty white bottom-down shirt took the brunt of the foul liquid, while his dusty black braced pants only dampened a bit. "TWO DAYS!? WHAT KIND OF MASTER ARE YE!?"

Edison wiped the mixture of saliva and alcohol from his face and explained. "Technically, I've been preparing for the last fifteen years, but I hit my head hard a couple days ago. Been cramming on the bloody basic magic ever since."

"Well that's just _great_" the pirate threw his arms up in frustration. "How are we supposed to win now?"

"We _could_ start by getting you more mana." The badly dressed magician rubbed his chin. He'd read enough on that to know that without enough mana, a servant was as good as dead. "But… how do we do that?"

Buccaneer calmed down somewhat and sighed. This was going to be a problem. "There's two ways t' increase a servant's mana count. The first method involves some participation on the master's part, while the second one basically has me runnin' around and devourin' the souls of bystanders to up mah mana level." The servant clicked his teeth, jerking his head to the left in some kind of tic. "And trust meh, ye don't wanna try the first one."

"Why not?"

"Ye don't wanna know that either…"

Edison sighed nodded. He would have to look up that first method later to find out just why. "Alright then. You seem to know more about this than I do at the moment. What's the game plan?"

"One hundred souls," Buccaneer paused, that tic of his taking place again, "Three days."

The badly dressed magician folded his arms together and bowed his head, deep in thought. After a few moments of consideration, he looked his servant straight in the eye, with an inexplicable look on his face. The next words that came from his mouth said it all. "Sounds good to me…"

May or may not be continued…

Author's notes: So yeah, here's my first shot at lampooning FSN. The implied first method is something I've read on the net, and is supposedly the method used in the game… Considering its nature as an eroge, and the comments on the particular scene involving said method, I simply put two and two together. Correct me if I'm wrong. Also, I'll give free cookies to whoever figures out the _obvious_ identity of Buccaneer. Please review!


	2. Buddha's Gambling Partner

Author's Notes: Right then… Buccaneer was a dead giveaway. About that, it's just that I don't think Jack would make a good bad guy. Oh, and I recently saw Eps 17 and 18. You can tell how slow I am… As for this particular servant, I think the title says all. Apologies in advance to any Buddhists. I have no intention whatsoever to offend, and wrote this for the sake of humor. I'll still hand out free cookies to whoever guesses it before it's revealed in this same chapter.

Disclaimer: Fate/Stay Night is the property of TYPE-MOON. The OC's here belong to me, and were made for the sole purpose of being complete retards. That is all.

Character Profile:

Name: Edison Pride

Age: 19

Sex: M

Height: 176cm

Weight: 63 kg

Designation: The Self-Proclaimed Bad Guy

Servant: Buccaneer

Country: England

Hair: Black

Eyes: Black

Outfit: Charlie Chaplin outfit

Command Tatoo: Anchor

Magical Knowledge: Very Highly Extensive (originally), Mildly Extensive (currently)

Talents: Mind control spells, sword fighting

Likes: Winning, teasing Einzberns, kicking ass and chewing bubble gum, sitting back to watch chaos ensue

Dislikes: Losing, Einzberns, Emiyas (especially Emiyas), Tohsakas

Char Traits:

Edison is highly egotistical, likes annoying people in childish ways (such as sticking out his tongue), reading Time Magazine, and generally slacking off. While originally possessing what is possibly the most magical knowledge of any master for this particular war, he hit his head two days prior to the opening night and lost his long-term memory with regards to magic (possibly permanently). This has forced him to start cramming up on even basic magic, much to his chagrin, and has decided to concentrate on mind control spells, which he feels he will find useful somehow. He constantly hits on cute girls to no avail, resulting in serious frustration. He has a knack for insulting the Einzberns for being losers, sterile, and albino midgets. As 'the bad guy', he feels like he has to act the part, and overly dramatizes himself as the stereotypical Hollywood British villain, right down to cheesy lines, ritualistic observance of snack time with tea and biscuits, and manic laughter.

Chapter 2: Buddha's Gambling Partner

Haru Tohsaka smiled in the way a mischievous ten-year-old girl would after successfully stealing from the cookie jar without being caught. The fourth-grader splayed out her left hand to examine the new set of three tattoos on the backhand side, poking it to make sure it wasn't fake. The bright yellow smilies glowed in reaction to her prodding. Satisfied with the authenticity, she brought it down and looked at the servant that she had summoned, a menacing glint in her eye. "Okay, Preacher!"

"What?" Preacher was, by rule of first impression, a monk… a very handsome monk. Standing 5'10, with somewhat lengthy golden blonde hair, he looked like somebody right out of a bishounen anime being watched by a legion of those cursed yaoi fangirls.

Not that Haru would be familiar with such things. After all, her regular TV viewing consisted mostly of educational material like random documentaries, with rare glimpses of _Akazukin __ChaCha_ every now and then. Yes, Haru Tohsaka was a model student, spending most of her time studying her academics and the like. All the boys at school swoon at the very mention of her name. But for all it's worth, until opening up that basics book, reading the summoning mantra and drawing a ridiculously simple circuit that suspiciously resembled a ':P' emoticon, she hadn't the least inkling of magical knowledge.

Like any other ten-year-old fourth-grader, Haru did well when it came to acting her age. That is to say, as an annoying, irritating brat to older siblings, and a nuisance to older people in general… like monks. "My first absolute order! Make like a duck!"

"What?" Preacher's eyebrow shot up.

"You heard me! Make like a duck!" the first smiley, a generic-looking one, disappeared from the back of her hand.

Preacher found himself in a rather humiliating situation. Right now, he was prancing around the living room of his new master with his arms akimbo and flapping, while he squatted and quacked in a fashion not too different from a certain Disney character. To the bishie monk, however, it was more annoying than embarrassing. He had thrown away the latter emotion when he was _much_ younger.

Much to his chagrin, all his master did was jump up and down like a drunken cheerleader while clapping and laughing at his predicament. Honestly, of all the absolute orders he had ever been given, this was probably the lamest of them.

Roughly ten seconds later, she stopped and pointed her finger at him accusingly. "Okay! Enough duck! My second absolute order! Do a Dirty Harry impersonation!" The second smiley disappeared from her backhand.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me…"

"Haru!" a voice boomed from down the hall, accompanied by heavy footsteps. "That surge of magical energy had better not be what I think it was!" Kai kicked the door open, only to be peppered a second later by a hail of bullets. In reflex, he ducked behind the wall. "God! What the _hell_ was that!?" The elder Tohsaka stole a peek around his hiding place, and gawked at what he was seeing. There was a _man_, in _robes_, carrying a_ loaded_ _gun_, in his living room.

That particular train of thought was disrupted when Preacher spoke, "I know what you're thinking. Did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun ever made, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky?" The servant pulled down the hammer, cycling to the next chamber. "Well, do ya? Punk?"

"Um… um… um… um…" Kai freaked as the apparently insane monk pulled the trigger and sent the last shot into the priceless marble bust of some famous dude situated six inches to his right. The bust consequently exploded into powder. Given a couple of seconds to regain his composure, Kai loosened his collar for some proper breathing, and looked around to find his sister giggling childishly at his predicament. "HARU!"

"Yeah?"

"Is this the servant?"

"Yep!"

Kai banged his forehead against his palm several times, before proceeding to do the same thing with the wall. The best way to get rid of your anger and frustration without hurting somebody? Vent it out on yourself and the house! He sighed and calmed down, albeit with his forehead bright red and close to bleeding. "Alright… I'm feeling better now." _Let's__ take this from a objective perspective._ Kai, being the elder brother, and hence, heir to the Tohsaka's magical knowledge, was of course, the true candidate for being a master in this particular war. Being a highly stingy person, he was always after the cheapest way to get what he wanted. The Holy Grail War, which he'd spent ten years preparing for, was perhaps, his only exception to his self-imposed rule. "The _one_ time I willingly spend a ridiculous amount of money for a good cause, and you ruined it! That Sanskrit Scroll from the black market cost me enough money to pay Dr. Black Jack _three times over_!"

"Ruined it?" Haru cocked her head sideways, a confused expression on her face. "How? I got us a servant, didn't I?"

"But obviously, you messed up the summoning process and wasted the catalyst!" He threw his arms into the air, exasperated

"Who're you calling a waste now?" Preacher shoved a bullet into a chamber and pulled down the hammer to a menacing note.

"Well, look at you!" Kai pointed an accusing finger. "What kind of monk uses a _gun_, of all things!?"

Preacher shrugged and pulled out a cigarette. "Got a light?"

Out of reflex, the elder Tohsaka chanted a minor fire spell to ignite the roll of tobacco, only afterwards realizing what he had just done. "And what kind of monk _smokes_!?"

"What, were you expecting Buddha or something?" the corrupt monk blew a puff of smoke at his master's brother. "Just so you know, Buddha isn't an epic spirit. He's too busy having fun reincarnating every few decades or so."

It was Kai's turn to cock his head sideways, confused. "But I thought Buddha was-"

"What, enjoying eternal peace and oneness in Nirvana?" Preacher snorted. "You obviously have no idea, do you, kid? Everybody knows that Nirvana's the most boring place in existence. Buddha was of course, wise enough to figure that one out, so when he got there, he reincarnated himself _at will_. That's how great he is!" The servant paused to take another drag. "Word on the street is, his latest incarnation is some rich American computer mogul who owns a company on the top 50 of the Fortune 500… the lucky bastard…"

The last statement led Kai to glance shortly at the Xbox sitting in a corner of the entertainment system, and shake his head with a muttering of "Nah… can't be…"

"Wanna bet on that?"

"I think I'll pass." Kai decided to quickly change the subject. "So… who're you supposed to be then?"

"I'm not telling you." Preacher blew another puff into the Tohsaka heir's face.

"And why not?"

"You're not my master," the servant answered bluntly and pointed his thumb at the girl who was now sniffing the flowers in a nearby vase. "She is."

Kai drooped. This was going to become rather complicated. He casually walked over to his sister and whispered something into her ear. The miniature Rin clone nodded cheerfully and said, "Okay, Preacher! Tell us your true identity!"

"Ever read that novel? Journey to the West?" Preacher proceeded to reload the rest of the chambers in his revolver. "I'm the nicest guy in that motley crew," he added, with evident sarcasm.

The elder Tohsaka smirked and countered with his own bit. "You mean the pig with the rake?"

His answer was met with the muzzle of the monk's revolver stuck to his forehead. "Guess again. And if you say I'm the monkey with the magic stick…" Preacher trailed off and pulled down the hammer to emphasize his point.

Kai could only laugh nervously, raising his hands in defense. He was _way_ too young to die. Besides, the answer was obvious anyway.

"Xuanzang," Haru interrupted in deadpan. There was something about the way she said it that neither male in the room could put their finger on. To be fair, though the girl was considered the equivalent of a near-blank slate when it came to magic, she was very knowledgeable in many other respects. "You're Xuanzang-Sanzang, the Chinese monk who travelled west to India and brought back 657 Sanskrit Scrolls to share to your people."

Preacher cocked the gun upwards and smirked. "Well I'm glad _somebody _knows who I am! Unlike _some_ people here…" he threw an annoyed glance at Kai, who merely shrugged.

The Tohsaka heir suddenly froze as he felt a powerful presence breach the estate's barrier. "Put out the lights."

"What?" Haru blinked.

"Somebody's here." Kai approached the window as his sister and her servant did as told. Inconspicuously peeking out from between the shut curtains, his eyes widened as he espied a figure in the front yard, standing under the cover of an oak tree that obscured many of its features. But Kai didn't need to get a really good look to know who it was. The dull grey trench coat billowing dramatically in the sudden leaf-filled gust of wind, black leather gloves, and red armband on its left sleeve was more than enough to give away the intruder's identity. His eyes slanted in apprehension. "Einzbern…"

A faint, feminine chuckle echoed through the cold night air as the figure disappeared with yet another gust blowing through the yard a veritable cloud of leaves.

May or may not be continued…

Author's Notes: Hints have been given away as to the exact time setting of this particularly retarded Holy Grail War, and while it doesn't make any sense now, will be further explained later on. And yes, as shown in Edison's profile and on Haru's hand, even the command tattoos are retarded.


End file.
